


"Broken-Hearted Something"

by 994527



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF, Motorsport RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Fluff, Heartbreak, M/M, One Shot, Whatsapp as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/994527/pseuds/994527
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yeah. He loved me like a fucking fairytale. For more than a year. And I walked into his motorhome in Montmeló and told him it was over like it was a fucking contract-“</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Broken-Hearted Something"

**Author's Note:**

> It kind of jumps around in time a bit...but I think and hope you can piece it together 
> 
> Thank you so much. Enjoy <3

Alex: Are you ok?

The Mallorcan opened the message thread, amazed to see the name pop up on his phone, and bit his lip slightly as hovered over how to reply. In the end? Simplicity was better.

Jorge: Not so great. You?

Nothing more came of it. It went blue, the ‘offline’ disappeared, and nothing. And that was ok for an hour on Sunday night when whiskey was the only thing online, but by 3am on Monday morning it really wasn’t. 

Jorge: I miss you like hell, baby. I miss you like hell 

Jorge: I just want you… 

Jorge: We could make this work, I really think we could x

Nothing.

Jorge: Use this to show them, please. At least make it worth something. If you’re not with me and you really think your career was suffering, then please use this. Please remember everything I told you, and remembering everything you are. You’re incredible. I love you and I always will and I’m sorry I’m a bit drunk. I can’t really sleep otherwise right now

Jorge: It just feels wrong

Jorge: Everything without you feels wrong.

*

“Thanks for coming.” Marc grinned as he ushered his brother inside, already knowing he’d just started off in the most formal and ridiculous way ever and then exhaling loud enough for Alex to stop and turn to frown at him.

“What?”

“Nevermind. Sorry in a weird mood. Want a beer?” He smiled as his brother nodded, going to get one out the fridge, and then slouched next to him on the sofa. “So…”

“So…?”

“So when were you going to tell me you were fucking Jorge Lorenzo?”

*

“I can’t, ok? I can’t. And you’re not making it any easier-“

“Why would I make it easier!” The reigning champion tried to take a deep breath, this scenario not one he’d ever imagined, before moving forward again and looking down into the younger rider’s eyes; until they looked down and he found himself moving his chin up to get the eye contact back. “Alex. I love you, and I know, I know this thing with us has nothing to do with you crash-“

“I’m unfocused and I can feel it. So it does. And I love you too, but I’m sorry. This is done.”

He moved himself free of the Mallorcan, over to the door, and then took a deep breath before he tried – and failed – to not look back to look at him; stood there still and staring, eyes glassing over and lip wobbling.

“S-sorry I love you so much but I can’t.”

*

“What?!” The Moto2 rider spluttered, going bright red as he looked back at his brother, before something on his face just made him give it up there and then. And he expected to calmly explain yes before but no more and keep everything under control, before what actually happened – which was that he burst into tears and felt Marc’s arms pull him in immediately.

“What did he do to you-“

“No. N-“

“Just talk when you can and we’ll figure out something-“

“No.” That was firmer, the EG 0,0 rider pulling away and wiping his eyes, taking a deep breath and then levelling his gaze at his brother’s. “He didn’t do anything exc…except b-be per…” and again. “Perfect.”

“What?” The Repsol Honda rider frowned back at him, the words so unexpected it made them hard to understand in their simplicity, before sitting up further as his eyes started to go wide. _It was you._

“I broke up with him. I told him forever and he left her and then I broke him-“

“Hey shhh.” _What the fuck._ “Just…” He trailed off as he gave Alex a squeeze, wondering what the hell he could say to that and having thought he was walking into a funny awkward situation rather than heartbreak, before taking a deep breath and looking him back in the eye. “What happened?”

“I th-thought it would h-help.”

“Help?”

“I th-though I’d get rid of this stupid idea of being happy in a GAY relationship with JORGE LORENZO and it would all come back, and I wouldn’t crash and I’d probably get a girlfriend, wait a while-“

“He made you happy.” The words, spoken about the particular human in question, seemed an extremely unlikely and weird idea. “So what made you-“

“Because I was too obsessed with him and racing comes first.” That was punctuated by a quick sip of the beer, before the Moto2 rider sniffed and then sat back up. “Ok, I’m going to go and call-“

“No, don’t call her.”

“What?”

“Don’t call her.” _Am I really about to encourage this._ “Please don’t call her if you don’t want her. Call him.”

“Yeah well it’s a bit late-“

“Says who?”

“Says what I did to him. He’s not finished a fucking race in the top 5 since-”

“Ok.” _Please let me be right about some things._ “Did you…I mean, did you-“

“Yes we fucked. Don’t-“

“NO! I was going to ask if you loved him-“

“Oh.” That brought a teary and red-faced smile to the younger man’s face, cringe too strong to be lost, before he took another deep breath and then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah course I did. It’s not worth the risk without-“

“And he loved you.”

“Yeah. He loved me like a fucking fairytale. For more than a year. And I walked into his motorhome in Montmeló and told him it was over like it was a fucking contract-“

“Hey, come here.” He got to his feet to pull his brother into another hug, everything white hot with the shock of how long it had been going on, before nodding to himself and then pulling Alex’s phone out of his pocket. “Just text him. Anything.”

“Thanks for trying.” The former world champion shook his head and took the phone, sliding it back into his pocket and then shaking his head. “But it’s way too late.”

*

It was a big thing to do. Terrible in some ways. But possibly, the only way and the most caring way to solve it. So he did it, fingers shaky as he typed out the words, and then put the phone back where it had been next to his sleeping brother.

And watched it light up.

_That part is for you, when you wake up._

*

Alex: I hope you’re ok

He waited, watched it stay the same, and then sniffed again and turned over. _So maybe it had nothing to do with you after all and I broke you instead of fixing me. Ok._ He’d envisaged a training montage since getting all his time back for himself. Complete focus and nothing to distract him, when in reality it felt more like there was something missing and being on the bike felt no different. _Plus the fact that I don’t think I can even breathe-_

Jorge: You left me, so leave me. Alone. Please.

He read that, felt the tears come back and warck through him, before throwing his phone across the room and ripping himself out of bed and down the stairs, alcohol cabinet already open.

*

Marc: Meet you there at 10?

Alex: Sorry feeling a bit sick. Not today

Marc: Aww shit. Can I help?

Alex: No thanks. I’ll talk to you later

Marc: Ok…

*

Marc: He’s cancelled. I think there’s something going on

Jose Luis: What kind of something?

Marc: Like a broken-hearted something

Jose Luis: Aww no

Jose Luis: You think she broke up with him?

Marc: I don’t know. I don’t know if she mattered this much

Marc: I guess we’ll see

*

Hector: Jorge is being so weird. He broke up with her and it’s like the other way around

Artur: I know. I don’t know anything else

Artur: I mean I know it hurts for him too but it’s a bit crazy

Hector: Yup.

*

Hector: Everything ok for tomorrow?

Marc: Yup thanks! You?

Hector: Yeah all set. 

Marc: Perfect. Is Alex coming or is he still moping?

Hector: Still moping. It’s like Jorge. Please tell me Dani is happy despite the odds…

“Hey, babe?” Marc called through from the bed, Dani in the bathroom brushing his teeth with the door open, and found distant eye contact in the reflection. “Hector wants to know if you’re ok despite the odds?” He grinned as he watched the older man huff, adorably, and then typed out an answer before hauling himself up and over to the bathroom, arms going round him from behind and nuzzling into his neck. “He’s just joking because you’re grumpy.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.” He kept the eye contact, something else taking over, before letting his hands slowly wander lower and lower as he watched the expression on Dani’s face change and whispered in his ear. “I’ll see what I can do…”

Marc: Dani’s fine. I think Alex broke up with someone too.

Hector: Someone?  
Hector: WAIT, MARC!!!!  
Hector: MARC!

Marc: Talk tomorrow, fucking now  
Marc: Night x haha

*

 _I shouldn’t listen to this kind of music on my own._ It had been a long time since Lugano – traditionally the opposite of his lonely place – had felt this empty. But everywhere was like little snippets of Alex or Nuria, one of them perfect and the other not, constantly reminding him of everything he’d lost in the past few weeks and months.

_Maybe I’ll get over it, soon. But then I thought you couldn’t do that with perfection._

Jorge: Need to practice in the wet

Artur: Yep. You ok?

Jorge: Not bad. Why?

Artur: Because it’s 5am 

Jorge: Sorry didn’t realise  
Jorge: Talk to you tomorrow

Artur: This is my tomorrow

Jorge: Ok then. Wet practice

Artur: Sleep

Jorge: I’m trying

*

It was 11am before the Moto2 rider actually woke up enough to class it as such. Stretching and frowning at the ceiling, he turned over to grab his phone onto snooze again, and then felt his breath catch as he looked down and saw the name.

He opened it with shaky fingers, wondering what the hell it was going to say and praying it wasn’t going to be another rant like h’ed got a couple of times, before staring at the thread and reading the words, and then reading what he’d apparently sent to start it off.

“MARC.”

_You lying bastard._

“Don’t be mad, ok-“

“You fucking dare-“

“Tell me if I’m right.” The older brother pointed at the phone, trying to stay calm, and then raised his eyebrows. “Just tell me if I’m right.”

*

Alex: You replied to me.

Jorge: I’m not angry anymore. I just miss you.

The Mallorcan held his breath as it went blue and the evil typing… started to tease.

Alex: I miss you too.

Jorge: I didn’t want you to miss me

Alex: Neither did I. I wanted everything to be simple  
Alex: But it’s not really simple. And I miss you

Jorge: I can’t take this anymore, ok? So if you mean that like I mean it then tell me and let’s talk about it  
Jorge: If you’re just feeling sad and you haven’t changed your mind, please don’t drag me back in

Alex: So you’re out

Jorge: ??

Alex: If I can’t drag you back in, I guess you’re out

Jorge: I’ll never be out. I love you.

Alex: Would that win though. When you’re feeling paranoid because we’re in different countries and I take a while to reply  
Alex: Will you love me then or will you get scared I’m leaving?

Jorge: That depends on you.

Alex: I’ve sent you a present, go and open the door.

*

It was definitely a high risk plan, because it was definitely not guaranteed to not ruin everything. Now, in a week, this season, or maybe forever. Because he was sure he hadn’t made the decision for the wrong reasons, so there was something in it. But maybe, it had been the right reasons but the wrong decision.

He rehearsed what he was going to say again, waiting for the door to open, before feeling himself freeze as it did and he found himself face to face with those eyes going from surprise to terror to joy and then to closed, too much to take in.

“When I ask, don’t come in unless-“

“Open your eyes.” He swallowed, trying to steady his voice, and took a few steady breaths as he watched the tears just start to brim over on the face looking back at him. “L-listen-“

“Ok.”

“Baby-“

“Don’t-“

“Jorge.” That, more definitive, brought the silence back as he balanced on his knee. “I was really desperate, ok? I was really desperate and I convinced myself of all the wrong things. And I am still desperate now except now I really don’t have any control over it. Because I’ve realized that it’s me, on track, and that’s why it’s not coming together. It has nothing to do with you but now everything to do with you because I m-miss you like hell-“

“I miss you too-“

“So I’ll never do it again. Ever. And I’ll be who I should have been in the first place, and I’ll grow up. And I’ll get back to where I should be and stop relying on you. But I do need you. In my life. So please will you marry-“

“No.” The Mallorcan shook his head, hands going down to start to pull Alex up, before taking the box and snapping it shut. “You don’t need to propose-“

“No sounds like-“

“I want you forever and I want to marry you and share my life with you. But you have to leave her-“

“You seriously think-“

“Alex-“

“Seriously come on, I wouldn’t-“

“That was the deal-“

“Shit deal though. Guess who thought it up-“

“I can’t believe you’re giving me shit on my own doorstep-“

“You turned said NO to marrying-“

“Yeah because it’s not thought through-“

“I’ve thought about nothing else!”

“Ok, STOP.” The Mallorcan literally put his hand over the younger man’s mouth, manhandling him inside, before leaning in closer as Alex was against the wall. “You want to do try this again how we should-“

“How I should-“

“Alex, I love you, but will you please stop fucking interrupt-“

“Sorry.”

The Mallorcan growled, the irony of that too much, before leaning forehead to forehead with him and letting it sink in, arms going round each other exactly as they should and moment suddenly perfectly still and quiet. “You’re back, then.”

“I love you.” He whispered that into his ear as he started to hear him lose control. “And I’m sorry. I’m s-so so s-sorry-“


End file.
